


see you again

by shukagari



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, M/M, alternate reunion, begins when pidge starts at the garrison, broganes, hints of angst though as well cause it's a hard time, instant friends lance and pidge, keith and pidge are already friends, keith gets picked on by those two, lance is a kind helpful boy with a crush, mutual pining in second chap, my own interpretation of what happens in that time and i also turned it klancey, the second chap is a big one and is fluffy as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukagari/pseuds/shukagari
Summary: Keith and Pidge break into the galaxy garrison, and have a run in with a certain snarky-assed cadet that Keith can't remember the name of...Oops--'“My mum and I are parked outside,” Pidge answers, sounding ominously giddy. “So get on out here fast. And make sure to bring your hoverbike,tonightyou and I are breaking into the galaxy garrison.”Keith doesn't even hesitate.“Okay,” he says, then hangs up the phone, grabs his jacket, and races for the door.'





	1. alternate reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write lol. I really hope that you enjoy it :)
> 
> also i am currently working on chapter 4 of my big old urban fantasy klance fic, i just though I'd take a bit of a break and I wrote this instead :)

Keith is sitting in his shack, doing nothing but staring at the photographs and papers tacked to his walls – trying to find some sort of clue about where his brother, Shiro, is, where Pidge's family is, or even what Voltron means – when he gets the call.

“Pidge?” He asks when he picks up the phone, “What is it?”

“My mum and I are parked outside,” Pidge answers, sounding ominously giddy. “So get on out here fast. And make sure to bring your hoverbike, _tonight_ you and I are breaking into the galaxy garrison.”

Keith doesn't even hesitate. 

“Okay,” he says, then hangs up the phone, grabs his jacket, and races for the door.

–

Getting into the building is the easy part, somehow, it's getting into Iverson's office that is proving difficult.

The lights are low, lights out having been called about an hour ago, but Pidge is thankfully prepared having come with a hand drawn map and a nifty little lock picking set they picked up from ebay. 

Keith glances back down the dark hallway, keeping lookout, then back down at Pidge, crouched and eyes almost pressed to the stubborn lock they are trying to tackle.

“Why won't this open?!” they growl, rattling the door handle. “ _Dammit_ , we do not need this right now.”

“Let me do it,” Keith says, trying to shunt Pidge out of the way with a soft kick to the leg. 

“ _No_ ,” Pidge refuses, shoving right back. “I'm doing just fine. I've read up about it.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, folding his arms. “Well, I've actually done it before.” 

Pidge squints up at him, eyes narrowed, before they deflate; defeated. “Fine,” they say, handing over the kit with a visible reluctance. “We're breaking into a locked room in a high security military training base so I guess I should leave it to you, and I suppose Plato did say, summarised, experience trumps borrowed knowledge, or whatever.”

“Sure,” is all Keith says to that, he crouches down next to them and gets to work on picking the lock himself.

He's so focussed on his task, and with Pidge babbling away a load of technical sounding instructions taking up the rest of it, that he fails to pick up on the quiet footsteps slowly making their way towards them until it's too late. 

“What are you two getting up to over here?” A new voice whispers right by his ear, and Keith startles, jerking up; suddenly tense all over. He straightens, turning to look over his shoulder at their newest hallway member; quickly pocketing the kit. 

The guy leans back and away from Keith, thumbs looped in his galaxy garrison uniform trouser pockets. He's got short brown hair, dark skin and a smile that looks vaguely familiar to Keith. 

Keith frowns at him, and tries to recall the name. Was it, Luke? Liam? Link? _Lunch?_

“You two breaking in there looking for snacks?” the guy asks, pointing to the door Keith and Pidge had just been clustered around, and he sure is awfully nosey for someone who is basically a perfect stranger. “Cause I'm afraid you are out of luck, Hunk and I already checked there when we were going on the hunt for a packet of gummy bears, which we'd both been absolutely craving all day and I'm saddened to say that we came up empty.”

Pidge stands up straight, staring up at the stranger, and Keith glances at them, hoping they'll be able to come up with some ingenious excuse for them to be there on the fly, like they always seem to do. It's a long moment of staring (and the guy stares shamelessly right on back, that same, _familiar_ easy smile still on his face), then their mouth opens, and Keith let's out a sigh of relief, they have: “We're here to sneak into Iverson's office, with the purpose of downloading classified files about the failed kerberos mission.”

Or maybe they haven't, and have instead lost their mind. 

The guy stares at them a moment in complete silence, eyebrows pulling together – Keith stares down at Pidge in confused alarm, and Pidge stares resolutely ahead, up at the new guy –, then a broader grin paves its way across the guys face. “Oh okay,” he says, and gestures for them to follow. “I'll be happy to show you the way, then.”

Pidge looks down at their carefully drawn out map, then back up at the new guy, not moving an inch. “Isn't this it?” they ask, pointing back at the door they'd been working so hard on.

“No,” the guy says, and for some reason his eyes slide over to Keith. “I would have thought you'd have known; that's just a storage room. Iverson's office is this way.” 

He turns to continue on walking, and then just as quickly turns back. “Oh!” he exclaims, softly, throwing out a hand to Pidge, “I'm Lance, by the way.”

“Pidge,” Pidge introduces, shaking his hand. “And this silent, broody guy with me is Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Pidge,” Lance says, giving Pidge a warm smile. His eyes flick up to Keith, and his smile, impossibly, widens. “And I already know, Keith,” he says, now addressing him, “Didn't think I'd see your mullet gracing these halls again anytime soon.”

Pidge snorts loudly into a closed fist, and sneakily leans back on the balls of their feet to get a look at the back of Keith's head.

This goes unnoticed by Keith, whose suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. 

“Um,” he starts awkwardly, “Who are you?”

Lance blinks at him blankly for a few short seconds, before realisation dawns and his expression screws up.

“Oh _no_ , fuck you, Keith,” he whines, not unkindly, and Keith turns to stare wide-eyed at a chortling Pidge. 

“You are an absolute asshole,” Lance continues, pulling his hands through his hair and making it stick up. He stands there, staring down at the ground before he finally peeks up at Keith; scratching embarrassedly at the back of his neck. “You don't remember me, huh? I guess I shouldn't have assumed, even though we _were_ in the same class.”

“That's just Keith,” Pidge says, patting Lance's arm. “It took two weeks of me turning up at his shack, almost every day, for him to finally remember my name without any prompting.”

Lance's gives a weak laugh and he attempts to wave the whole thing away with a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, glancing awkwardly between Pidge and Keith; his cheeks a soft pink. “I don't really care anyway.” He reaches for the handle of the door they'd been picking, attempting to move the conversation even further away, “By the way, this is already open, it's just a got a load of boring cleaning stuff in it.” He shrugs, “And they don't usually lock it as it's needed pretty frequently, what with the resulting mess from some simulations, as I should know with Hunk on my team.”

The door swings open at Lance's touch, and Keith and Pidge are left staring into the small supply closet, crowded with all kinds of cleaning goods, and it's cluttered enough to only be able to house one person, and definitely not an entire office desk, and a file filled with government secrets. 

Pidge turns to glare up at Keith without any vehemence; a thick, mocking eyebrow slowly rasing. “Picked a lock before, hmm?” they say, “and yet you couldn't even tell that it was already unlocked, you _liar_.”

Keith scowls, now hot with embarrassment as well, and turns to Lance, wanting to quickly change the subject.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” He asks, raising an eyebrow of his own, and folding his arms. “You're not like a hall monitor, or whatever? How do we know we can trust you?”

Lance snorts loudly, and shakes his head. “No, I'm not a hall monitor,” Lance tells them. “I don't think they do that here, and if they did I definitely wouldn't be chosen for it.” He grins, like it's something he's proud of, although he still looks sort of sad about it.

“And _I_ was actually on my way to Iverson's office myself,” Lance continues, “He took my phone a couple weeks ago and I still haven't gotten back – and I just know I'm gonna have like hundreds of angry messages from my mum now, so _I'm_ not looking forward to that.”

He begins sloping down the hallway as he talks, his speech turning into grumpy mutterings; his hands shoved into his pockets. “He said he'd give it back to me at the end of the day, but nope, three weeks later and it's still in that crummy old locked drawer of his desk,” Lance murmurs on, “And normally I wouldn't risk it, sneaking into a higher ups office, but my mum's started calling Hunk to find out what's going on so I sort of have to.” He finishes with a sigh, looking back to the both of them, following along behind him.

“Iverson's a dick,” Pidge observes, nodding their head.

Lance grins at them, obviously pleased. “Yeah, he really is. Did you know that he–,” Lance pulls up short, and a faint whistled tune twangs in the air, accompanied by the sound of steadily encroaching footsteps. 

“Shit,” Keith murmurs, and straightens, looking for a place they can hide. 

Pidge looks at Keith, their eyes wide beneath their choppy fringe. “What should we do? We haven't gotten anything yet.”

But it's Lance that moves first, grabbing them both by the arm and corralling them back down the hallway – he throws open the storage room door, shoves Pidge inside, shuts the door and then backs Keith into the wall, pushing against him.

“What are you doing?” Keith growls, lifting his hands to shove at his chest – but he stops short at the feel of Lance's fingers on the back of his neck.

“Hide your face in my neck,” Lance tells him, his fingers drifting up into his hair. “You are sort of well-known around here so you should probably hide your face.”

Keith's face scrunches up in distaste, but he does as he's told anyway and then he's suddenly assaulted with Lance's _scent_. It's sort of orangey, with a hint of chocolate and – 

Lance interrupts his spiralling thoughts with a sudden apology. “Sorry,” he begins, setting off on a spiral of his own; his breath is warm, and it burns the side of Keith's face, tickling his ear. “Probably should have given you more warning. And I probably should have shoved you in the storage room as you are more recognisable, but I feel like it'd be much weirder doing this with Pidge as they seem sort of young, and I _know_ that you are my age–” 

Keith pinches Lance's arm, and Lance shuts up just as the whistling reaches them and then suddenly comes to an abrupt halt – Lance ducks his head, thinking fast, and quickly presses his lips to the soft skin of Keith's jaw.

Keith tenses immediately, coiled up and ready to spring away, and then he relaxes, let's out a shuddering breath, and his hands come up to grasp at Lance's back.

Lance feels a smile coming on as he moves his lips up to the sensitive skin beneath Keith's ear, and he's beginning to feel sort of pleased with himself when Keith let's out that same breathy– 

“Lance McClain,” a kindly voice admonishes, “What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

Lance lifts his head, fake surprise written across his features, and he immediately snaps to attention.

“Professor Barnaby!” he yelps, his hand still cradling the back of Keith's head. “I'm so sorry, my boyfriend here,” he gestures to Keith, and Keith tucks his face further into Lance's neck; hoping his behaviour will be dismissed as simple shyness, “And I just wanted some privacy, and well, I'm sorry, I guess we lost track of the time?”

The woman grins, pushing a greying lock of hair behind her ear. “Don't worry about it, Lance,” she says, with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “I used to get up to much worse at my all girl's boarding school,” she laughs, continuing to walk on by, “As long as you both get to bed now, no one else will need to know – and you best do it pronto as I'm about to hand over the patrolling reigns to our favourite Iverson.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lance calls after her, standing rigidly tall until she disappears round the corner. He relaxes back against Keith then, blowing out a loud sigh of relief. “Goddamn, if that had been Iverson, I'd have been skinned alive, he already hates me enough as it is.”

Lance puts his hand on the wall by Keith's head, and pushes back to look at him. “You okay?” he asks, and tilts his head, “That wasn't too weird?”

Keith shakes his head, rubbing at his jaw where Lance had been _kissing_ him. “No,” he says, head still shaking. “It was fine.” He licks his lips, then points down the hall, hoping to quickly divert Lance's attention away, “Who was that, by the way? Is she a new teacher?”

Lance grins, his face brightening with excitement. “Yeah! And she's only the best teacher ever! She's super funny, and we have this knitting exchange thing going on – I'm knitting her a scarf, and she's knitting me–” 

Pidge opens the door then, poking their head out and glancing around furtively. “All clear?” They ask quietly, fingers curled tightly around the door handle; ready to slam it shut again at a moments notice.

“Yeah,” Lance says, giving them a thumbs up, interrupting his own tirade. “Better get down to Iverson's office now, if he's starting his patrols soon he's probably currently down at the front of the school and we'll have,” - he pauses to think about it, counting distractedly on his fingers – “ _about_ ten minutes before he works his way back to his office.”

“Right,” Keith says, and attempts to shift out from under Lance's loose hold – he manages to trip up a little over Lance's big feet, and Lance catches him with a casual ease.

“You alright there, Keith?” He asks, eyes brimming with a wicked amusement.

Keith scowls up at him, and Lance pulls away, chuckling, completely undeterred. 

“So,” Pidge says, sidling up between them, “Iverson's office?”

Lance clicks their fingers at them, and gives a nod of their head. “ _Right_ ,” he says, and turns abruptly, “Let's be on our way.”

Lance scurries on ahead of them, leading the way through dark corridors, pausing at each turn and holding up a hand to keep them back whilst he checks to see if the coast is clear. It takes awhile, but Pidge seems to be enjoying the drama with the way they are grinning, and Keith is left sort of impressed by Lance's stealthiness (he wonders if Lance does this often – and if they'd almost ever run into each other, when Keith still went here and he had been sneaking out to ride on his hoverbike) and they do eventually make it to Iverson's office without being caught. 

Lance bends down at the door, reaches into Keith's pocket for the lock picking kit and sticks a pin in the keyhole. “I watched a youtube video on how to do this,” he says by way of explanation, lips pursed up in focussed concentration.

“And I'm sure you'll just magically be able to do it now on your first try,” Keith grumbles, sarcastically, although without much feeling in it – he finishes just as the lock in the door clicks out of place.

Lance turns, throwing his bright, smug smirk up at Keith. “You were saying?”

“Not now, you two,” Pidge says, shoving their fringe out of their face as they hurry into the room. They turn back to shake their head at Keith anyway, “But really, Keith, you walked yourself into that one.”

Lance straightens up, sending Keith a grin as he passes him by, heading for the small locked drawer on the end of Iverson's desk. 

Keith rolls his eyes, and walks over to join Pidge at the computer, still scowling. “You know what you're doing?” he asks, leaning over the back of the chair as he watches their fingers fly across the keyboard, their eyes not straying from the screen.

“Yeah,” they say, “I just need to concentrate.” Their tongue sticks out as they work, and the seconds impatiently tick by.

Keith stands over them, arms folded to his chest, with his foot tapping on the ground as he watches them search through the files at a lightning quick pace.

“Yes!” Lance whoops, springing up from the drawer he was hunching over, holding his phone up and pumping his other arm in victory. He cradles it close to his chest, before switching it on. “I'm so glad I finally got it back – oh, _shit_.”

“What?” Keith asks, looking over at him. “You got a load of messages from your mum?”

“No,” Lance says, looking over at them both with horrified eyes. “I can see Iverson's murky, horrible silhouette making its way towards us through the window.”

“Dammit,” Pidge growls, pounding away at the keyboard. “I need more time! I haven't found anything yet.”

“I don't think we have it,” Lance says, darting over to go stand by the door – he peeks out at the figure through the frosted glass. “The man grows ever closer.”

Pidge looks up at Keith, biting their lip. “I'm sorry,” they say, “I probably got you all excited about us definitely finding something tonight, I _know_ I definitely thought we would.” 

“It's fine, Pidge,” he says, and squeezes their small shoulder. It isn't fine, but that's definitely not Pidge's fault; it's the fault of whatever happened on that kerberos mission, and whatever secrets the garrison is hiding. “We'll get back in here again, and at least now we know where the office is.” He swallows, he's not very good at this sort of thing, “And I'm sorry, too, that we didn't find anything about Matt, or your dad.”

“Here's the plan,” Lance pipes up at the door, seemingly unaware of the atmosphere in the room – but in doing so, he manages to cut right through it. “I'll go out and pretend I'm just getting a little midnight snack, I'll make a big ruckous, causing a distraction and then you two can get away,” 

“Won't you get in trouble?” Keith asks, scrunching up his eyebrows; not that he minds really, it's just that he can't imagine why Lance would be so willing to help two people he barely knows. 

“Eh,” Lance says, with a forced shrug of nonchalance, “It won't be anything I haven't heard before. I'll probably just get a long lecture about my ineptitude, and then a weeks detention or something.”

Pidge hops up from the chair, and quickly wipes at their eyes. “Let's get out of here then,” they say.

Lance grins at them, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he says, and comes forward to give Pidge a squeeze, wrapping them in a one-armed hug. “You okay?” he asks, even though they probably don't have the time. 

“Yeah,” they say, managing a tremulous smile. “Thanks, Lance,” they say, “for helping us out.”

Lance waves them away, looking sort of abashed. “It's okay,” he says, and lifts his phone, “I was coming this way anyway.”

Lance looks back out into corridor, through the window, and Pidge and Keith follow him, keeping low. 

“Okay,” Lance says, now a man with a plan. “He's at the top of the opposite corridor, but he's facing away – so what's going to happen is that you two are going to run to the right after I've left, and _I'm_ going to run left, whilst creating as much noise as I can so you two will have a chance to escape undetected.” He looks at both of them, and raises his eyebrows, “You got that?”

Keith nods his head, and Pidge says, “Yup. All clear.”

“Okay,” Lance says, and slowly rises from his crouch. He tiptoes to the doorknob, and carefully begins to turn it, praying that it won't squeak, then he ever so slowly shifts the door open. 

“Alright,” he says, “This is it.” _It_ , hopefully not being the end of his schooling career. He sticks a foot out the door, feeling as if a bright spotlight has just been dropped on it and Iverson's gonna turn and spot it any second – 

And then Keith stops him before he goes, gripping his bicep. “Lance,” he says quietly, and smiles sort of awkwardly when he meets his eyes, “Thanks.”

Lance smiles back, gives him a little salute; and moves away, Keith's hand falls back down to his side. “No problem, Keith,” he whispers back, and gives a nod to Pidge, “I hope you two manage to find what you were looking for.” He looks back to Keith's eyes, nods again, his expression serious, and then he turns, darts out of the room and runs back along the hall – making sure to be as loud as possible; stomping his feet, knocking into a rubbish bin and purposefully throwing himself into a wall as he goes. 

Keith watches him go, and he doesn't look away until Iverson goes flying past, not even sparing a glance to his ajar office door, and only begins to move when Pidge tugs at his arm. 

“Come on,” they say urgently, “We gotta get out of here, my mum can only drive up and down the front road so many times before it gets suspicious.” 

Keith nods, looks back one last time to the now empty corridor, and then he turns, and follows Pidge silently down the halls. 

–

“Where have you been?” Hunk asks, sitting up in his bed and rubbing at his bleary eyes when Lance enters the room. 

“Oh, nowhere,” Lance says with a shrug, going for nonchalance; then swiftly changes tack and steams on in an excited rush, “I was only helping one Keith Kogane, and his friend Pidge break into Iverson's office to help them steal secrets about the kerberos mission. Also, I have detention for three weeks now, and I got my phone back for like five minutes until Iverson caught me and now that's gone again, too.”

“That's great bro,” Hunk says, nodding his head as he slinks back under his covers. “Glad you didn't get kicked out. Tell me about it tomorrow morning.”

“Keith didn't recognise me, you know,” Lance tells him, flopping down onto his mattress. “Can you believe that?”

“Yeah,” Hunk murmurs sleepily, not opening his eyes. “I mean, no...” he trails off. 

Lance stares at him, waiting for something more, and then he sighs and flops back down. “I'll tell you about it tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Hunk says again, and Lance rolls over to face the ceiling, his hands resting on his stomach. 

He wonders where Keith and Pidge are now. 

He wonders if Keith's mullet is whipping about in the breeze as they race away from here, he wonders if it'll hopefully blow off his head and back to the 80s where it belongs, and he wonders if Keith's stupid cropped jacket which really doesn't serve the purpose of what a jacket should be, will go along, too. And maybe those – 

And Lance continues being all sweet in his wondering, feeling his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, that is until he realises, with a shock, that he hasn't put his face mask on and that he's still in his dirty old uniform, and then he's jumping out of his bed with a shriek. 

\- end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> You can find me at: sakuragimichi.tumblr.com
> 
> also sorry if there's any mistakes, and i need to check up on that plato thing - i did it for my uni course, but that was like last year so I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. I'm just really tired and I have a coach to catch tomorrow so I'll have to check it all over at a later date.
> 
> Also, once again, I may be working on a part 2 to this, that will be as a chapter 2, but I'm not sure yet. I have some ideas, but I'm just gonna need a few more before I consider writing it out in full - but please let me know if you'd be interested in one!! edit: i'm definitely doing a part 2, thank you so much for your interest! I hope to have it out soon :) 
> 
> also number 3, i have no idea what jolly ranchers are, i was gonna use haribo but then idk if they are over there in america so i just had to go searching through google for american sweets. Edit: kudos to Silverstring for helping my ignorant, English ass out with this one; jolly ranchers has now been changed to gummy bears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probs the cheesiest thing i have ever written - but it was a lot of fun!! I'm off to bed now as I'm super tired, but I really hope that you like this :)
> 
> Also I make Lance break out of the garrison like a million times in this like it's easy because like convenience idk but he seems like he knows what he's doing in canon and like he could get away with it.

Pidge looks up from their printed schedule, biting down on their bottom lip as they squint consideringly up at the door. _Is this the way to their first introductory assembly_ , or are they about to unknowingly walk in on a class of third year space cadets and end up embarrassing themselves on their first day?

Damn, Pidge wishes Keith was here. Not because he'd know, as has been made obvious by their previous break in attempts at the garrison, but just because it'd be less embarrassing to stumble into the wrong classroom with a friend. 

But Keith's never going to be stepping into this uniform again, unless it was by way of disguise, so they've got to work this one out on their own, which is something they've always been good at doing – _or_ that was the case up until the point when a tall, familiar lanky boy comes tripping into view, hurrying along the corridor towards them as he quickly straightens out his collar. 

Pidge breathes a quiet sigh of relief, feeling substantially better, then sticks up their hand, waving him over.

“Lance!” Pidge cries, giving him a wide, toothy grin.

And Lance is so clearly in a rush to be somewhere, his cheeks flushed with colour and his hair as tousled as his short cut could be, yet he still pulls to halt next to them and stops to check in.

“Hey,” Lance pants, a little out of breath, running a hand down his face and looking sweatily apologetic. “I'm sorry, who are you?”

“It's Pidge,” Pidge reminds him, and they watch as the name falls into place. “We met for the first time like two months ago,” they elaborate anyway, “I was breaking into the garrison, you helped me find the right office.”

“Oh, right!” Lance brightens, he gestures up at his face with a wild hand. “Sorry, I didn't recognise you with all of this new stuff going on.”

“With the new glasses and hair?” Pidge asks, and they continue when Lance gives them a nod. “Good. This is meant to be a disguise anyway.”

“Ooh, cool, what name are you going by then?” Lance asks, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “You got some cool undercover name that you're working under?”

“Just using Pidge,” Pidge says, suddenly feeling a little nervous as they tell him, “The garrison knows me by Katie Holt.”

They don't get the expected gasp and apology at the Holt name, and it's sort of a big relief – Pidge is grateful for their support, but they just don't know what to do with it and they'd rather be working on a solution to getting their family back rather than spending time mulling over just how to deal with it. There's just barely a flicker of recognition across Lance's features at the name, a glance at Pidge's nervous expression and then he nods his head and moves on. 

“So I see that you're no longer going for little sneak attacks, huh?” Lance says with a grin, “Instead you've opted for a full-blown invasion.” He gives them a friendly little shove to the shoulder, “ _Nice_. You got any of that late night sneaking planned on the horizon?”

“Yeah,” Pidge tells him, “I'm meeting up with Keith this Thursday.” They look at Lance a moment, eyes darting over his face. “You can come along, if you want?”

Lance grins. “Secretive sneaking around in the middle of the night? Breaking into Iverson's office to steal sensitive secrets?” – _Keith Kogane being there?_ , he fails to add – “Sure, Pidge, I'm in.”

“Is Keith here, by they way?” Lance asks, looking about as he quickly rakes a hand through his short hair. “Where is he?”

“No,” Pidge says, “It's just me. He got kicked out, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance says, and he looks strangely disappointed. “I'm just not used to seeing you without him so I guess I just got a bit muddled, or whatever.”

Pidge stares at him, considering him, but then Lance is quickly changing tack, “Let me get a look at your timetable, you looked a little lost earlier. Ooh you've got professor Barnaby first period, she's great!”

And they let it go, for _now_. 

–

At lunch, Lance introduces Pidge to Hunk and he can't help but feel that it was a bad idea on his side when their group conversation quickly devolves into a two-sided, boring techno-babble discussion about something or other that Lance isn't interested in and he's left to stare glumly at the blank cafeteria wall as he idly stirs his peas about his tray.

“What was your name again?” Hunk asks Pidge as he holds open the door for them all as they leave the cafeteria.

“Pidge Gunderson,” Pidge tells him, eyes darting away as they shove their glasses up their nose.

“Oh cool!” Hunk exclaims, smacking a large hand down on their shoulder and knocking them forward an inch. “You, Lance and I are all on the same simulation team! I'm the engineer,” he tells them with a cheerful smile. 

“Wait, what?” Lance says, whipping around to face Hunk with a sudden renewed interest in their conversation. “I thought that hot second year, Annalise, was on our team? You know the one with the pretty black hair?” 

He quickly turns to Pidge, holding up his hands apologetically, “Not that I'm not overjoyed to have you on our team, Pidge,” he says, then slides a hand down his front, “I was just hoping to work the Lance magic on her.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“And I'm sure that always goes spectacularly,” Pidge delivers in a monotone.

“Hmm,” Hunk says, actually considering it, then he shakes his head. “Nope, it doesn't really. Sorry Lance.”

Pidge shrugs, “I didn't think so.” And they probably would've added in a sassy flip of their hair if it had been longer.

They both breeze on ahead, Pidge with a cheerful smirk and Hunk with a still thoughtful expression as he attempted to count out Lance's many failed flirting attempts on his fingers. 

Lance stares after them, mouth agape, wondering what he has just gotten himself into.

–

It's a Wednesday, the Wednesday before they are set to meet up with Keith to be precise, when Lance finally broaches the topic he's had tumbling around his head since he first ran into Pidge again, two days prior. 

“So,” he begins as casually as he can; which isn't all that casual. “What's Keith been up to these days?”

He darts a look at Pidge, the only other person in the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor by Lance's bed, hammering away at their keyboard.

“Hmm,” Pidge murmurs, not looking up. “The usual, I guess. Sitting about in his shack with the lights off, thinking about stuff.”

“Cool,” Lance says with a nonchalant nod of his head; he tosses Hunk's stress ball back up into the air and catches it:

one 

two 

three times, before:

“He's been tramping up and down his stretch of desert as well, searching for clues, he's been getting these weird feelings–” they pause, and slide their eyes over to Lance's unusually rapt expression. There's a moments careful calculation, and then a grin slips onto their lips, “Why do you want to know?” Pidge asks.

Lance wets his dry lips, and attempts to give a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Can't a friend be interested in another friend?” he asks, even though he's not sure that he and Keith are friends – maybe he should have gone with _rival_.

“Yes,” Pidge says with a nod, they agree with him, and yet their grin still widens into a full on smirk. “Although I'm _interested_ in knowing what kind of interest it is we're talking about–”

Lance throws the stress ball at them, squeaking a high, “Pidge!” And he twists about on the bed, getting caught up in his blankets, before he tilts over the edge of the bed to glare at them; his face a bright, flustered red.

Pidge tosses the ball up in their own hands, having caught it with ease. “I'm just curious,” they say, shrugging, “What are your intentions–”

“I've got no intentions with Keith, why would you –? I don't understand?” he splutters off into incoherency, his cheeks still coloured red and Pidge simply smirks up at him as he flounders, clearly having a wonderful time. 

They throw the stress ball up again, and Hunk comes dashing into the room then, grabs the ball out of mid-air and slams against his desk. “I need that,” he says, and begins squeezing it desperately in one hand as he shuffles papers about with the other. “Iverson just assigned me an extra go at the simulation – something about needing test bunnies, and man if this stress isn't killing me!”

At his audience's continued silence, Hunk turns to them, looking at their suddenly placid, expectant faces and shatters their warm 'classes are over' peace, with an, “That's you two, as well, you know. We're hopping back in the simulation.”

Pidge groans loudly, flopping back against the chest of drawers and Lance whines a pathetic, “Nooo!”, burrowing deeper into his pile of blankets.

–

It's late Thursday night, and the desert is frightfully cold. 

The stars are bright, the full moon stark in the dark night's sky, and Lance hunches deeper into his coat, shoulders pulled up to his pink-tinged ears as he asks through chattering teeth, “When's Keith going to get here?”

He stomps his feet into the ground to try and generate some warmth, and Pidge, next to him, looks perfectly at ease, not seeming to mind the cold at all as they roll up their sleeve to check their watch. They tap a careful finger to the face, where 'Samuel Holt' is inscribed in golden cursive. “He should be here any minute now,” they say, tucking their hands back inside their coat pockets.

The quiet roar of an engine echoes out over the silent dunes and it draws their gazes up to Keith, astride his hoverbike, drifting down the side of one; the sand shifts apart around him, and the starry sky is bright above his shadowy silhouette.

When Keith draws close, Lance immediately forgets himself and his previous chilled to bone state, rushing towards him with a happy bound; Pidge follows behind at a more sedate pace. 

“Hey, Keith, buddy,” Lance grins, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Betcha you didn't think you'd be seeing me again so soon, huh?”

Keith pulls of his helmet, and shakes out his hair and Lance only let's out a _small_ , pathetic whimper that he seems to miss. “No,” Keith says to him, and nods over at Pidge, “Pidge told me you were coming.”

Lance wants to ask, _and you were alright with that_? or, more pressingly, _are you happy that I'm here_?

But instead he just sticks his hand in his pocket, feeling around inside there a moment then he pulls out his phone with a triumphant huff, shoving it beneath Keith's gaze; it's pretty scuffed now, probably from being tossed carelessly into Iverson's desk drawer so many times, and jostled about in Lance's pocket when he'd had keys or a pen in there also. It's a pretty outdated model as well, Lance has never been able to afford the best what with being from a large family, but it works just fine.

“Do you have a phone?” Lance presses, his hand still sticking beneath Keith's nose, phone and all.

Keith looks at it, eyebrows pulled down, then back up at Lance. “Yes,” he says carefully, as if he's confused by the question, “So I don't need your old ones.”

Pidge snorts at this with a fond roll of their eyes, and Lance flushes pink at the misunderstanding; not really wanting to elaborate on it.

“No,” he says, and then continues in a stutter, “I-I was meaning for you to put your number in it.” He scratches at the back of his neck, eyes stuck on Keith's clearing expression. “Is that okay?”

“Oh,” Keith says to this, looking altogether surprised. He sticks his hand in his own pocket. “Yeah, that's fine, Lance.”

Lance blushes through the whole exchange and Keith doesn't meet his eyes, but he sticks his phone back in his pocket with a warm, bubbly feeling of victory bright in his chest.

Lance licks his lips, and looks over at Keith's hoverbike. He points at it, already heading towards it, “Can we go on this?” he asks, looking back at Keith.

“Actually,” Pidge begins, “We were going to–”

“Sure,” Keith interrupts them, and then he begins to grin, “If you think you can handle it.”

Pidge rolls their eyes again, throwing up their hands and Lance grins back at Keith.

“Sure, I can, mullet-boy,” he says, and Keith's grin widens.

Keith climbs back onto his bike, then reaches down for Lance's hand to help him up. Lance looks at it a moment, then he glances at Keith's gentle expression before he takes it and allows himself to be pulled up.

“You coming, Pidge?” Keith asks, looking down at them and their folded arms.

“Fine, if that's what we're doing instead,” they say, then they quickly scurry up the back of it, like a kid on the jungle gym, and lodge themselves into the seat behind Lance. 

Lance's hands rest loosely on Keith's hips, and Pidge wraps their arms around Lance's shoulders, gripping tight; they've been on this joyride before, and they know what to expect. “No crazy stunts this time, Keith,” they say, raising their eyebrows dangerously even though Keith can't see them, “Okay?”

Keith doesn't answer, he just tightens his hands on the handlebars and pushes them forward, into the night. 

Lance's hands tighten on Keith's waist as they push off, his stomach lurching forwards, a shrill sound squeaking out of him; Pidge is half-strangling him as they take off across the desert, yelling loud expletives over the roaring wind. And then Lance laughs, suddenly, his chest filling with awe as he looks up at the moon that turns the desert a dark blue; his coat billows out around him, and the wind brushes his cheeks and messes with his hair. 

As they ride out over the dunes, Keith reaches down to briefly touch Lance's hand with his fingertips. “You alright?” he yells to Lance, his hand already back on the handlebars.

“Yeah,” Lance yells back, nudging his chin against Keith's shoulder so he can be heard, and he can see Keith's cheek move as his lips curve up in a smile. 

They pull to stop back where they started, and Lance slides off the bike with a hooted, “Wooh!” as he rakes a hand through his hair. “That was awesome, Keith!” he points to the bike, “Do you think you could show me how to ride it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Keith begins to say, smiling softly at him, but then Lance tacks on: “I bet the girls back at the garrison would be so impressed, did you ever take any of them out for a ride?”

Keith's smile slips off his face, and twitches into a frown. “No,” he says, turning away to fiddle with his bike “I didn't.” He keeps his voice low, to disguise the confused hurt in it as he continues, “And I don't think teaching you would be a good idea, can't have you sneaking out too many nights in a row.”

“I don't mind–” Lance starts, but Keith interrupts him, clambering back onto his bike; he looks at them both, his expression carefully blank.

“I'll see you both later,” he says, then looks at Pidge, “Just text me whatever it is you wanted to tell me, Pidge.”

“Yeah,” Pidge nods, looking apologetic, “Bye, Keith.” They level an unimpressed look at Lance when Keith starts up his bike, and then they begin tramping back towards the garrison's high wired fence, muttering under their breath about oblivious idiots as they go.

Lance doesn't notice, he's too busy staring after Keith's slowly shrinking form, his lips twisted in a frown of confusion. 

He looks after Keith, and he _wonders_ , and he thinks maybe, just maybe he could – but he doesn't take the thought any further, he just turns away to follow quietly after Pidge, frown still twisted on his lips.

–

Lance stares at the new number in his phone, curled up in bed about half an hour after they'd left Keith in the desert, and wonders if he should send him a text.

Lance wonders where Keith is now, if he's alone at the moment and if he _feels_ it like a physical ache, if he's back home yet or if he's still riding out in dark dunes, if he's still upset about whatever it is Lance _stupidly_ said – 

Lance sends him a text.

Lance: I'm sorry about whatever it was I said that upset you. Please tell me what it was and I won't do it again.

He doesn't get a reply, and he tucks his phone beneath his pillow feeling confused and dejected.

–

“Seriously, dude,” Hunk says over breakfast the next morning as he shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, “These little side missions you keep going on sound exciting. How was it on the hoverbike?”

“You wanna come along?” Lance asks, perking up, “You can find out for yourself then.” Hunk has always been good at keeping him from overstepping his bounds, and maybe having him there will keep Lance from putting his foot in his mouth. 

“Nope!” Hunk tells him cheerily, “But if you happen to fancy a late night cooking class, or if it's a matter of life and death, I'm there for you buddy.”

–

Lance gets a reply during class, and he doesn't hesitate in pulling his phone out and obviously reading over the text.

Keith: don't worry about it, Lance. I just got confused, I guess. I'll see you and Pidge tomorrow, if you're coming. It's during the day so it'll be warmer, but after classes so you won't miss anything.

Lance: sure! I'll definitely be there, if we can get out.

He smiles unconsciously down at the screen, at the chance to see Keith again and tucks his phone back into his pocket. 

– 

“I don't see how this is a matter of life and death,” Hunk says to Lance, arms weighed down by the heaving picnic basket he'd brought with him. “You're just dragging me along to meet your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Lance tells him, eyes hidden by the binoculars he has trained on the far off rocky outcrops; waiting for Keith to come speeding into view.

Pidge huffs out a laugh, and mutters something like, “Not like you both don't want him to be.” They stare innocently back at Lance when he turns to squint at them, pushing their sweat-damp fringe off their face.

He's about to say something to it when Keith comes riding into view, and Lance takes off across the sand towards him – Pidge mutters a quiet, “ _Desperate_ ,” under their breath and Hunk snorts loudly in laughter next to them.

Lance ignores them, rushing forward to pull Keith into a quick, friendly hug, before moving away, happy to be over the brief upset that had been between them; Keith awkwardly smacks him on the back, and gives him a nod and a small smile as they pull apart.

“Hey,” Lance says in greeting, his eyes not drifting from Keith's face as he points back at Hunk. “I brought a friend.”

Hunk raises his arm, holding up the basket he'd brought along. “I brought a picnic,” he says in greeting.

“There's also a blanket and sunscreen in there,” Pidge tells them, popping up beside him, they raise the umbrella held over their shoulders, “And I brought this for some shade against that dastardly sunlight.”

They leave Keith's bike behind, and they tread on up a sand dune for a prime seating arrangement, their feet periodically sinking deep into the ground as they slip and slide their way up the loose earth. 

At the top, they stick the umbrella into the ground, Pidge shoving it down with a war cry as if they're stabbing a spear into a gigantic beast, and then they lay out the blanket, holding the corners in place with their shoes.

Keith's eyes keep on darting over to the basket, and Hunk opens it up for him and waves at it with a sweeping motion, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, and immediately digs in now that he's been given permission. 

Keith shovels down the food Hunk brought along like he hasn't eaten for days, and Lance wonders what he must do for food up in his shack; he quietly pushes his leftover sandwiches onto Keith's plate. 

Afterwards, Pidge and Keith sit off to the side and discuss whatever it is they've found in their time apart with each other, and Hunk and Lance lay about beneath the umbrella, staring up at the empty, clear blue sky.

“Hey, Hunk,” Lance says, sitting up to tug at his sweaty shirt with a visible wince of distaste, “Could you put some sunscreen on my back for me? It's really hot and kinda wanna take my shirt off and be free, you know?”

“Yeah, sure, buddy,” Hunk says, his mouth full of sandwich, “Just let me finish this.”

“I can get that for you,” Keith says, drawing out of his conversation with Pidge – Pidge turns to grin at Hunk, and shuffles their butt over to sit next to him. “If you want,” Keith adds, and he stares at Lance, his eyes unblinking as he waits. 

“Okay,” Lance says quietly, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush for whatever reason; he grabs up the sunscreen and passes it over to him. “Thanks, Keith.” 

Keith moves behind him and Lance tugs his shirt, up and over his head. His ears prick up at the sound of Keith squeezing a dollop of sunscreen into his palm, and he feels too aware, too on edge and he startles when Keith's gentle fingers, wet with sunscreen, touch his back.

Keith doesn't comment on it, thankfully, and Lance tries to pull away from the moment, tries to focus on anything but, turning his gaze on a lone, wispy cloud drifting across the pale sky. 

Keith's fingers move up to his neck, and Lance closes his eyes, tilting forwards. His heart is pounding like a drum in his chest.

Off to the side, Pidge continuously elbows Hunk in the side as they watch, silently snickering together. 

Keith pulls his hand away, and the moment is broken, Lance's eyes snap open.

“Thanks, Keith!” Lance says, loud in his nervousness and Keith smiles at him, squinting against the sun, “It's fine, Lance.”

They all lay out together until the sun sets, bursting across the sky colours of yellow and pinks, and then Hunk, Lance and Pidge begin their trek back to the garrison as night begins to fall into place – the sky mellowing into a dark orange. They leave Keith at his bike, and all turn back and wave until they can no longer make him out – Lance feels a twinge of sadness at leaving him alone.

–

Keith wakes up as fingers of bright sunlight begin filtering in through his window. He blinks blearily up at the ceiling for a moment, before picking up his phone and checking his messages; he frowns at the little 'no signal' written in the top left corner.

He grabs his jacket up from the from the floor, and hops on his bike, heading out to the next town in search of signal. 

When he checks his phone, he smiles down at the messages pouring in from his friends and opens his thread with Lance.

Keith: Morning. 

Lance: I can't believe you're up this early even though you don't have school.

Lance: morning to you, too, by the way.

Keith's fingers hesitate over the touch keyboard a moment, before he shakes his head and quickly types out his message; firing it off before he can change his mind.

Keith: Wanna come out on my bike after classes today, just me and you?

Lance: Sure! I'll see you later, Keith. Have a good day :) 

Keith attempts to reign in his smile, but it wins out anyway, and he ends up grinning goofily down at his phone; the smile is still present on his lips as he starts up his bike again and it's still there as he races out towards the caves with the ancient markings that he's been exploring. 

Maybe he'll find something today, and in his good mood, he can't help but feel hopeful.

–

“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, jumping down off his bike onto the squishy earth.

“Hey, Keith!” Lance yells enthusiastically, dashing forwards to wrap him up in a tight hug, and they danced awkwardly together, Keith stumbling back at the force of Lance's sudden hug before they stilled.

Keith tucks his face into Lance's neck, closing his eyes as he breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

And Lance stayed there with him, holding him close and talking on about his busy day, about Iverson being a dick, as per usual, and Pidge and Hunk _bullying_ him ruthlessly, whilst his fingers moved almost absently up into Keith's hair, carding through it.

“And you wouldn't believe what Pidge said about my hair!” Lance is squawking,

“What was it?” Keith asks, pulling away to look at him, smiling slightly and Lance stops mid-sentence, his face softening.

His hand slips from Keith's hair to his cheek, and he asks, kindly, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith nods, swallowing thickly. He feels his cheeks beginning to heat up under Lance's intense, steady gaze. He raises his eyebrows at him, “You want to go on the bike?”

Lance grins, wide and brilliant. He pulls back, his hands slipping down to catch Keith's. “Of course, I do,” he says as he drags Keith towards it, “Now help me up, buddy!”

They ride out over flat red ground, the desert surrounding them on all sides and going on unbroken as far as the eye can see. The hot sun beats heavily down on them, and beads of sweat collect in Keith's hairline.

Keith looks back over his shoulder at Lance, to see him with his head tipped back; his eyes are closed, his expression content beneath the sunlight filtering down through the clouds and gently flickering across his face in bursts of startling heat.

Everything has been so hard these last few months, and Keith had felt so alone after getting kicked out of the garrison and before Pidge sought him out, and he'd felt himself growing steadily more hopeless as he seemed to fruitlessly search on and on for clues that he couldn't connect as to where his family was; he'd felt himself pulling apart, too wrapped up in his anxiety and worry at every waking moment. 

He'd sleep restlessly, and when he woke he'd be back to staring at his bulletin board, steadily filling with more clues that he couldn't match up or pull together. And he'd felt so incredibly lost, so alone – 

But Lance is a ray of pure sunlight in a dark time, and Keith is warmed by him.

–

Keith jerks up in his bed, panting loudly in the too quiet, too still shack and he shoves his sweaty hair back from his face.

He stumbles over to his water basin, scooping up a handful of water and splashing it against his overheated skin. 

He blinks away the droplets stuck to his eyelashes, and collapses back down on the edge of his bed, his head hanging low. 

It's been another bad dream. His worried thoughts about Shiro and Pidge's family twisting up into his dreams and turning them into something dark and terrifying; into a life spent searching, and searching and never finding _anything_.

His heart thunders loud in his ears, and his breaths come fast and fleeting.

He reaches for his phone with shaking hands, like it's a lifeline, and opens up his message thread with Lance, scrolling through them; he crawls back under his covers and eventually falls asleep feeling calmed once again.

–

They are sprawled out on the picnic blanket Lance had stolen from Pidge's room, beneath the bright sun and their fingers are tangled loosely together between them; neither of them have commented on it, too afraid the other will pull away if they do. 

Lance was shading his eyes from the sun with his free hand, and Keith was watching him, secretly, out of the corner of his eye.

Lance glances at him, and he pauses, a smile twitching onto his lips like he's just caught Keith in the act. “Hey,” he says, and nudges at him.

“Hey,” Keith says back, quiet in this moment.

Their faces are so close together, and Keith's heart is beginning to thunder in his chest. He licks his lips, and his eyes drift down to Lance's own:

And he hears Lance's breath hitch, and he looks back up, eyes wide – and something catches, something clicked into place and they both just knew what was going to happen next, if they let it. 

Lance's nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath, and his eyes dart over Keith's face, checking, his hands carefully slide up to Keith's neck as if he's scared Keith will move away, as if he _would_ , Keith looks down at his lips again, his eyelids getting heavy – and they come together, suddenly and fiercely, both of them moving forwards to press their lips together, and then just as quickly it melts into something soft. 

Lance's fingers spread out across Keith's cheek as they kiss, his palm gently cradling his jaw; and Lance's mouth is warm and sweet, like a summer's day – and Keith was disappearing into this moment, nothing else mattered right now but the press of Lance's lips and the feel of his hands against his skin.

Warmth wound itself around Keith like a blanket so soft and gentle, he felt safe, content and so, so alive as Lance's hands moved up into his hair, and the soft skin of his forearm brushed Keith's face as Lance pulled him closer, their lips still sliding together. 

Keith blinked dazedly up at Lance's grinning face when he pulls away, his eyes have crinkled up under the force of his smile. And Keith smiles back, his expression soft.

“That was...nice,” Keith says finally, and Lance laughs, leaning down to kiss his brow, then he feathers kisses down his face – Keith's hand grips his shirt tightly at the back, and he let's out a shuddering breath.

“Damn,” Lance murmurs against his skin, “I like you so fucking much.”

He freezes then, although Keith isn't sure why – he'd thought it was kind of obvious that they liked each other, what with all the mutual kissing – Lance pulls back to look at him, his face washing with wide-eyed panic.

“I can't believe this,” Lance groans, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “I'm such a loser.”

“You're not a loser, Lance,” Keith argues back immediately, then he pauses, considering. “Or maybe you are a loser and I like you in spite of it? Or I just like you anyway?” he pauses again, his eyes squinting in thought as he looks up at Lance.

Lance peeks at him between his fingers; his ears are tinged a bright pink.

“I'm not sure,” Keith decides finally, “I just know that I like you a lot, too.”

It's quiet a long moment, as they both take a moment to process what has just transpired, and then Lance takes Keith's hands carefully in his own and Keith looks up at him. Lance's cheeks are a fiery red, and his lips are trembling with a barely contained smile.

“I'm really happy that you do,” he admits, and then he moves their joined hands above Keith's head, rolls slightly on top of him and he leans down to kiss him, pressing their bodies together.

–

Lance: we failed the kerberos simulation again. Iverson chewed me out, and Hunk threw up in the control box.

Keith: Don't listen to Iverson, he's an idiot. I never liked him. Also, don't try your usual sneaking out tonight, there's been some weird stuff going on and I don't think it's safe.

Keith deliberates over his next message, sitting on his bike at the edge of the nearest town, he chews on his lip before he decides to just go for it – he throws his phone down on his bike after he's sent it, and swiftly kicks it into gear before heading back home.

Lance sits at the edge of his bed at the galaxy garrison, his toes curling up and cheeks straining under his smile as he stares down at his phone.

Keith: I miss you

Lance: I miss you, too

–

“Woah,” Lance says, binoculars pinned to the sky as he watches the ship hurtle down to earth, “That's definitely not one of ours.”

The ship slams into the ground, and the three of them jump up, grabbing ahold of Pidge's gear as they race down to the crash site.

– 

“That's Keith's brother,” Lance murmurs, staring over the shoulder of a frozen Pidge at the tiny screen. “We have to go–”

A round of explosions goes off, and the familiar sound of Keith's bike pricks at Lance's ears.

He grabs the binoculars off the ground, checks to see that yes it definitely is Keith before he throws them back down. “That impulsive asshole!” He yells, already shimmying down the side of the bank after him, “He tells me to stay in tonight because there's been weird signs whilst he goes and pulls a stunt like this! Doesn't he even stop to consider that breaking into a garrison operation could be dangerous!”

“As we should be doing,” Hunk breaks in, yet he still follows Lance down anyway – and Lance just continues on angrily muttering, not giving a moment's attention as he barges on into the tent that Shiro is being held in. 

“You!” Lance yells when he sees him, and Keith looks over at him with a smile that quickly drops off his face at Lance's expression. Lance pulls Shiro's other arm across his shoulders as he continues to glare over at Keith. “We're going to have a word when we get out of here, but only after we save your brother, and then, and then these words will be flying at you. Mark my words!”

–

They stand together as a group in front of the blue lion, gazing up at its giant yellow eyes – and they can all feel it, feel that this is the beginning of something new.

Keith reaches for Lance's hand, and Lance turns to smile at him as he raises a fist to knock against the forcefield.

– end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this story!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :) 
> 
> have a lovely day!! 
> 
> you can find me at: sakuragimichi.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm literally dead after writing this, but yeah, I really hope you liked it and I'm sorry if there's any mistakes, I'll check it over again tomorrow. (also i have no idea if this fits properly in the canon timeline but what the hell!! i've just messed about with the whole thing anyway so i guess it doesn't matter).


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